Marklin has made me so upset, I wasn't even being hostile to him like I was at the beginning, I was opening up to him. I thought we were bonding, I even talked about moving to Los Angeles with him, which should have told him that I trusted him and he invited Magpie to his party. He thinks he's doing what's right but how is he not seeing the dark side of this? How can he not think about me? About what her being here would do to me.

I love being alone, but there are times I don't wish to be, because if I am, I would start thinking and then my thoughts would catch up and the last thing I need right is an uncontainable episode, not even Nat Geo Wild would help me when I get that worse.
  
Pushing open the door to Flops, I walk over to the counter to get my usual, but the Freddie I see is different from the one I normally see. Usually her face would brightens up at the sight of me like I'm the light in her life, she would always give me a genuine warm smile, but this version is cold. She isn't laughing or faking a smile, she isn't even trying to hide her distaste for me.

"My usual," I tell her. If she wants to pouts then she should. I don't have time for mid life crisis.

People can't take the truth and yet they seek it. Such weak minded people. It's better how I told her that we aren't anything more than we are, we are not friends and I don't like people who acts like we're more than we really are. It's annoying.

"You think because you said your usual I'm just going to make it? I have lots of regulars, you can't expect me to memorize all their orders," she replies with a considerable amount of coldness but she doesn't know how to get angry or act hostile.

"You could have just asked. I want coffee. Black."

She hums and goes to make my coffee. I use the free time to get my phone and AirPods out, quickly unlocking my phone and scrolling through my 'management' playlist. It's the list of Heavy metals songs I listen to whenever I feel like my anger can't be contained hence the playlist name 'management' like an anger management playlist.

Marklin hurt me. He hurt me so much and if I'd allowed myself to feel all the emotions I was supposed to feel after that phone call, I would be on rampage but I've learned to not always let my emotions control me and get the best of me.

I connect my AirPods to my phone before fixing them in my ear. Freddie slams my coffee on the counter. "Regular black coffee and my spit, enjoy."

She's behaving like a child.

Clicking the play button, music fills my ear, drowning all other noise in the background, I grab the coffee off the counter.

My usual sitting spot in the cafe is empty again and the place is packed today, and no one is sitting there.

They probably found out it's my usual spot.

Sensible.

Placing my bag and coffee on the table before sitting. I bring out my sketchpad and pencil to doodle.

I'm supposed to showcase my creation this year, a painting but I haven't started working on it. All I do is sketch and sketch. It's time I start making some changes in my life. This semester is almost over, our finals is less than a month away and I have so much to catch up on.

I need to start working on my painting. If only I knew what it's going to be about.

Minutes into my infinity doodle, the chair in front of me moves, making metal scraping sounds as it's drag back. I don't look to know who it because I already know the person. His earthy scent is distinctive. And I'll know patchouli anywhere I smell it.

"What do you want?" I ask, having no time for his bullshit, not after the way we left things earlier. "Here to threaten me more?"

He wouldn't do that. He should  know better by now.

Seconds past and what feels like forever, he still doesn't say anything. Being quiet isn't like him, I quit shading and lift my eyelids to see his eyes fixated on me.

Blinking when I notice the look on his face. The Ethan I've interacted with never wear an expression that isn't cruel and wicked. Now it's the mixture of pain, regret and pity.

Why is he feeling these emotions?–

Of course. Of fucking course, he knows! Of course he knows. His mother took one look at me after learning my first name and she was all over me, hugging and telling me how sorry she was that I lost my family. Ethan shouldn't do that to me. I would really hate it if he says anything related to the incident.

"Leave if you are going to keep gawking at me." Dropping my gaze on my doodle, an actual penis with knives attached to the balls and another sticking the head.

How fun it would be to actually do this. The one person I want to do this to is dead, so the only thing I can do is sketch and imagine stabbing the bastard over and over again. The thought alone makes me happy.

"I'm not," he replies, finally using that stupid dishy mouth of his for something that is smart, "I came to talk to you."

Hmm?

"If you are here to offer your condolences, let me you stop before you anger me more, I–"

"I'm not here for that either," he cut me off.

He isn't.

"What do you want to talk to me about then?"

I can't imagine him having anything to say to me except threatening me or expressing his sympathy.

"It'll be an understatement to say I know what you've gone through, and I will not say I'm sorry or show you pity and sympathy because you don't need it, you are strong and I think I understand you a little now."

My lips part with no words. It's the first sincere words I've heard regarding the loss of my family in the crash. Nobody understood that I didn't need to hear them apologize for something they had nothing to do about. I didn't like the flowers or the hugs. I needed to be alone and wanted them to give me space, no one did that. They all wanted to be there for me, which prompted me to push them away.

Words means nothing to me but when I sense the emotions and moods behind each word, I can take it as genuine.

Ethan is an asshole but he's an honest asshole.

"You are not expecting a handshake or something, are you?" I shrug off the feeling and rapid beat of my heart, trying to act like I'm not affected by what he just said.

He shakes his head, his eyes drops to my sketchpad, they widens as they take in the image on it. "Ouch!"

"What?" I demand. It's not as if this is his first time seeing a doodle, I mean I know the reason behind his exclamation.

He looks at me like he can't believe I just asked what. I don't know what he sees on my face after searching my eyes for a minute before his expression softens.

He says, "I hope you don't plan on doing that to my cock." His humour shows in his tone.

"Don't bring it near me and I will think about it."

"Wow..." He drawls, "I'm speechless."

It's a first, I hope it last forever.

"I hear not talking is therapeutic. You should try it, it'll keep me from resisting the urge to strangle you," I tell him with a smirk.

He shakes his head and chuckles, it's a real genuine chuckle and he sounds beautiful. He sounds like a music score, my favorite sound in music.

"Can I have it?" He asks, reaching forward to tap my sketchpad thrice.

"The doodle?"

"Yes."

"Why?" I should ask because why does he want it.

"A constant reminder to not being my cock near you."

That makes me chuckle. "Good reason."

"So she's capable of feeling something that isn't anger," he says as he watches me with interest.

I can't maintain eye contact, it's too intense and it making feeling things I'm not sure I want to be feeling.

So I direct my focus to my sketchpad, folding the page in two because the sketch is in the left part. I wonder what made me draw it close to the edge of the page, it's like my mind knew someone's coming to get the page.

Carefully tearing off the half that contains the drawing, I hand it to him. "Here."

He takes it from me and a smile covers his face as he stares at the doodle. He looks different when he smiles, he almost looks like a good boy.

"Thank you," he says without looking at me.

What's so special about that? The only people I want looking at my work with admiration are people that'll take me to the next level.

After minutes of smiling, he folds the paper and stuff it in the pocket of his jacket. He gets up and says, "I'll see you around, tigress." He departs after that.

He didn't comment about my sketch, I like that. It's the second time today he's done something I like.

I have neglected my coffee and now it's warm, I love hot coffee.

A woman comes to my view, hands on the hips like she's here to fight. Take a hint, Freddie.

I take a large gulp of my coffee before looking at her. "Do you need something Winifred?"

"What did I ever do you?" She asks, her tone holds all sorts of emotions: anger, curiosity, hurt.

Sighing, "You didn't do anything to me, Freddie. You were pretending like we were friends, we weren't. I just told you things exactly the way they are."

"I know," she sounds frustrated. "I knew that but I wanted to be friends with you. I wanted to get close to you. I wanted to know you. I–"

Can't listen to this anymore.

"That was your mistake. People put themselves in a particular situation because they prefer it. I like the way I am." Stating the facts clearly.

"You prefer to be all alone with no friends?" She asks like she can't believe I just ask that.

I nod. "Yes."

"I don't believe that, I don't believe you," she actually sounds like I just told her we need to breakup.

"I didn't ask for what you believe."

And I would very much love to terminate this conversation. I want to add that but I have feeling she'd come straight for my head, it's not that I care what she thinks of me but the look she has on her face is genuine, even if it's holds all the emotions I hate seeing on people. I knew cutting Freddie off would cost me, she wasn't my friend but she was always a part of my day and that makes her someone I don't dislike, although I don't like her either because of her bubbly and loud personality.

"When I first got here, you were the only person that didn't complain about me," she begins, "I thought you saw me as a friend but you didn't, you never did, no matter how hard I try to be friends with you, you either snob, ignore or insult me." She looks like she's about to cry now.

I get that she's hurt about what I said to her the other day, I never saw anything bad in what I did. It was just honesty that I gave her and she's acting like a crybaby. What I don't get is why she's still holding on? Trying to get an answer as to why I cut her off?

Why are they holding on to me? Marklin and Freddie. Apart from the fact that I'm incredibly angry at Marklin right now, the man never once listened to me, no matter how hard I tell him to stay the hell away from me, it was annoying at the time and now Freddie is doing the same.

She held her ground this morning and I loved that, but she's breaking.

Sighing because I don't know what to do. I've never been good at identifying other people's feelings, it's something that causes misunderstanding between my siblings and me. It's different now though, I'm trying to be better. I've learned the hard way that the world doesn't revolve around me.

"What do you want? If it's an apology, you won't get one from me," I tell her plainly.

"I don't want your fucking apology!" Her tone raises a pitch and she knows she wasn't supposed to do that, she looks around the crowded Cafe and give a nervous smile before leaning closer to me. "I don't want your fucking apology. I just want you to know that you hurt me and I will never forgive you. I hope you enjoy the rest of your life alone." She slams her hand on the table and walks away for dramatic effect.

I will never forgive you.

That got to me. I don't care about her forgiveness or anything, it does nothing for me but I know today will be the end of her trying. People give up all the time and I'm excellent at knowing people that do.

To be honest, I don't like how it's making me feel. It shouldn't affect me, I don't even like Freddie but I can't shake the feeling that I've just lost her.

I'm not making sense, I know because I pushed her away myself.

So why am I feeling guilty?

"Yeah, I'll be there. I'm not going to miss the party at the biggest frat house in campus," her voice cuts through my thought. I look at where she's standing behind the counter and the guy in front of her.

"You never miss the parties, must be tradition since you practically live there," the guys replies.

I pack up stuff and think about what that guy said about her living in the frat house.

***

On my way home, I stop by the mall to grab some art supplies because I need to start working on my project and I have some ideas. Art supplies that includes watercolor paint, acrylic paint, oil paint, canvas, brushes, paper and pads, marker pen, artist pencils, mediums and vanish, and spray paint. I already have easel.

"Need any help?" Our doorman asks, the one that's been ignoring me after getting that I won't give him any time of the day. His withered flowers were strong response.

"No." My declination isn't harsh but not polite either.

He clears his throat and straighten up, not letting me get to him. "Have a good day," he tells me and gets the door for me.

My parents are–were pretty rich, scratch that, they were filthy rich. My mom came from old money and my dad's mother was a billionaire before cancer took her life, because she and my grandpa were never married, she gave everything she owned to my father as he was her only child. Said grandfather was a senator.

Not to move away from the point, I live in a pretty expensive apartment. My parents wanted my brother and I to be comfortable, so they made Marklin get us the best of the best.

I adjust the paper bags I'm hugging to myself to give me space to reach out and press the open button for the elevator. Seconds later, the elevator opens and see it's an empty car, I step and jab my floor number with my elbow before adjusting the bags again and move to stand at the corner to lean against the wall.

The ride up to my floor isn't long and the walk to my apartment is me raising my leg up to push the paper bags up to prevent them from falling. Although I drop them on the floor to fish my keys from my purse.

I open the door and enter to turn on the lights before going back for my art supplies.

The eagerness I feel to get back to real work makes me move faster, from the shower to my studio.

Not wanting to overwhelm myself by starting big, so I opt for the round canvas and settle down after connecting my phone to the house speaker and play 'Someone to you by BANNERS'. The sound fills the room.

I grab three different acrylic paint and put a drop of white, blood red and sandy brown on the canvas. The brush comes next, I use it to spread each drop, letting them connect with each other at the end. I drop the brush and grab the orange pencil and draw out a sun setting at the edge beginning of the red and shade to make a believable sun. Moving to the red part of the painting, I choose a red pencil to map out the ocean before shaping the waves with black pencil. Using the same pencil to make a shading of a woman sitting criss cross, facing the ocean and the wind making her hair fly.

It has a nice detail. A woman sitting alone with her thoughts, staring at a bloody ocean. And when I said bloody, I mean ocean filled with blood.

I place the canvas on my desk and stop the music that's blasting off the speaking. I'm not feeling this anymore, I should just go see a movie or something.

"A movie sounds nice." I'll probably just start Only Murders In The Building or any comedic mystery series I can find.

First episode later, I realize that I'm not feeling the series as well but I'm curious to know who killed Tim Kono and What really happened in Alabama. I continue to watch, ordering dinner in between episode two and three.

As the series goes on, I'm already getting familiar with it and I think I can guess who killed Tim Kono. It's the bassoon woman.

My phone rings beside me, which makes me flinch, not because I've been watching a mystery drama about a murder, it was because I wasn't expecting it.

I glance down to see who's calling, it's from an unknown number. I decline the call and continue watching. Seconds later, another call comes, I notice it's still the same unknown number.

"Now, who might you be?" It better not be a prank call because I really want to know who killed Tim Kono.

I answer the call and put my phone on speaker, my eyes returns to the tv.
  
"Hilsa!" A scream comes which makes me looks at the screen.

"Freddie? How did you get my number?"

"Michinnyeon." That's crazy bitch in Korean.

Did she just curse me out in Korean?

"Are you drunk? I don't care, why did you call me?"

Was I wrong to think she's strong? That she'd finally leave me to myself.

The background is loud where she is, I remember her talking about the party at the frat house. Elton and Darren never miss the Friday parties at that place.

"Why don't you like me?! I like you!"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Freddie find somewhere safe to sleep, you're drunk."

"Please tell me what I can do to make you like me."

They say people become honest when they're drunk but Freddie is clingy when she's drunk. She better not be like this to people she has a crush on. It's a red flag.

"Nothing. You tell me what I can do to make you stop drunk calling me."

"Come have fun with me."

What?